


When We Were Young

by coolbyrne



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:26:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of her parents' divorce, Jane returns to her childhood home one last time. (Established Rizzles.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The idea came from a tumblr post by mauraislescomplex, though not necessarily a prompt. There are 2 references included that are from my own canon. (Daniel is from “Blind Spots” and “Electric Blonde” is from a currently unfinished story.) I told my beta reader I thought the story was a little OOC and a bit too fluffy for my liking, but she convinced me otherwise. So thanks to happycamper5 for the work and the confidence.

 

…..

  
  


"Nostalgia is a liar."

 

The room was quiet and empty and smelled vaguely like fresh paint. They sat on the new carpet, side-by-side, backs pressed against the wall. But for a noise that came from outside - _next door?_ Maura wondered - and Jane's comment, the vacant house was silent. She didn't ask Jane what she meant. If the brunette had more to say, she'd reveal it on her own.

 

Sure enough, as if she had been mulling over the right words to use, Jane said, "It makes you believe there were nothing but good times. The truth is, there were more bad ones than good."

 

"The brain's response is to retain the positive memories; it's a coping mechanism."

 

Jane snorted. "I'd hate to think of all the bad memories I've forgotten, if I'm still left with the ones I've got." She took a deep breath and looked around the small room. "You know why I brought you here?"

 

"At the risk of guessing," she flashed Jane a soft smile, "I thought you wanted to show me the house you grew up in." Frank had put the childhood home up for sale two weeks ago, and Maura knew Angela had been pressuring Jane to visit one last time.

 

"Ma finally guilted me into it," Jane said. Maura's mouth dropped open, eliciting a grin from Jane. "I know she was badgering you to get me to come."

 

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it 'badgering'," she protested.

 

"That's because you're amazing." Jane reached for Maura's hand. Looking down at how easily their fingers laced together, Jane inched forward in her narrative. "I thought I'd show you what it was like, growing up in a big Italian family. You never got to see the place when it was lived in. I thought I'd dazzle you with stories about Christmases and birthdays and summers."

 

"You know, you don't need physical reminders to tell me about those memories."

 

Jane shook her head. "The thing is, for all the positive things the brain remembers, I think it makes up a lot, too."

 

Maura nodded. "The more time that passes, the less detail the brain is likely to retain. We see it all the time in our work. But don't disregard all your memories."

 

"No, I know. They weren't all bad. But I'm beginning to think the good times were the exceptions. I keep trying to picture all the family moments around a board game or the TV, but if I'm honest, I spent most of my time up here until I was old enough to run around the neighborhood with friends."

 

"Daniel," Maura smiled, remembering his last visit and their fondness for each other.

 

"Yeah," Jane replied, smiling, too. "But he had his own issues at home, so sometimes this was the only place to get away from everything."

 

Maura took in the room and tried to imagine what it was like with a young Jane. "Describe it to me."

 

"What? My bedroom?" When she nodded, Jane shrugged. "I bet you can guess the colour."

 

"Did Angela choose?"

 

"Yep."

 

"Pink," she answered immediately.

 

"I believe the can said 'cotton candy'. 'But Janie, you love cotton candy!'" Jane mimicked. "Yeah, Ma, to eat, not to live in." Maura couldn't help but laugh, and Jane nudged her with a shoulder. "The great news was, it matched the canopy bed!" Her glee was purposely over the top.

 

"I'm sure she was only doing what she thought was right."

 

"She always tried to do the best for us kids," Jane admitted. "It was just hard to appreciate it then, you know?"

 

Maura hummed her understanding. She knew a thing or two about parents who believed they were doing what was best for their children. "So tell me the rest."

 

Jane rubbed her hand across the surface of the carpet. "This is new. Used to be-"

 

"Pink?"

 

This got a laugh from Jane. “You'd think so, but nope, it was a purple shag from the 70's."

 

"Considering your age, I imagine that was the style," Maura ventured.

 

"Matching curtains with..." Jane squinted her eyes, as if she could see them in the distance. "Stars? Tiny stars, I think." Maura tried to imagine the colour scheme. When she wrinkled her nose, Jane waved it away. "At least I hardly ever saw the walls. Had them covered with posters.

 

Remembering the choices of her boarding school roommates, Maura said, "Sports or singers."

 

"Good job. I was required by Boston law to have a poster of Larry Bird in my room. He was on the closet door. The rest was dedicated to Poison, Motley Crue, Electric Blonde, and Def Leppard."

 

Maura made a face. "Those are horrible names. Where in the world does a deaf leopard make any sense?"

 

"They all had great hair, though!" The answer didn't seem to make up for the poor name selection, and Jane smiled. "I listened to those tapes over and over, partly because I liked them, and partly to drown out Pop downstairs. All my allowance went to batteries for my Walkman."

 

"And what did Jane Clementine Rizzoli dream of while she was listening to bands with nonsensical names?"

 

Chuckling, Jane closed her eyes as if caught in a memory. Suddenly, her eyes flashed open and she searched the room.

 

Maura noted the change. "What is it?"

 

Without answering, Jane stood. In the corner, close to the carpet and no bigger than 2 feet by 2 feet was a door. It had been painted the same colour as the walls, partially concealing it from view.

 

"You still have that Swiss Army knife in your purse?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Of course," Jane playfully repeated. "Let me see it."

 

Puzzled yet curious, Maura dug out the knife and placed it in Jane's outstretched hand. When she saw her slide the blade around the door frame, she gasped. "Jane!"

 

"I'll tell Pop to throw in a can of paint in the final price," Jane said.

 

With the damage already done, Maura could do nothing but watch as Jane wiggled the knife along the latch until the door popped open. Jane sat back on her heels and grinned.

 

"Plumbing access," Jane explained. "If anything happened, instead of tearing up the walls, Pop could fix it through here. Every room has one." To Maura's shock, Jane leaned forward and reached in. Before she could protest, Jane gave a small victorious chuckle and revealed her discovery.

 

It was a small book, roughly the size of a paperback, with a metal clasp on the cover. Jane wiped her hand on her jeans and made the short trip back to sit beside Maura.

 

"It's a diary," Maura said.

 

"Yep. Forgot all about it. Obviously." She pried the knife tip into the small lock and jimmied it open.

 

Maura frowned. "That’s not a very secure lock."

 

"Secure enough to stop two nosy brothers from spying," Jane replied, handing the knife back to her. The book fell open on her lap and she began flipping through the pages. They were filled with hearts and stars and cartoon drawings.

 

“You were a doodler,” Maura noted, leaning into Jane.

 

“I never knew what to write down,” she said. “Ma bought me a new diary every year; half of them were barely used.” Jane stopped abruptly. “Oh, god. I hope Ma didn’t keep the rest of them.”

 

Maura squeezed her arm. “You just know she did.” Jane groaned, much to her amusement. “What year is this one?”

 

Jane brought the book up to the end of her nose. “I can barely make out my handwriting.”

 

“Good to see your penmanship hasn’t improved.”

 

“Haha. Looks like ‘89, so I was… 14.” She leafed through the book, stopping here and there to read a passage or two. “ _‘Dear Book,’_ ” she began reading aloud, “ _‘Ma wouldn’t let me go see Lethal Weapon 2 but she’s dragging me to The Little Mermaid? Vomit.’_ ”

 

“Looks like your penmanship isn’t the only thing that didn’t change.”

 

“Very funny.” She went closer to the beginning and read another entry. “ _‘Ma bought me a new tape by some band called Skid Row. Pretty sure she thinks they’re girls.’_ ”

 

“Another wonderful name for a band,” Maura said.

 

Jane only smirked as she thumbed through the book. She stopped on another random page. Maura immediately caught the change in her expression.

 

“What is it?” Jane only looked away, the book open to the offending entry. Concerned, Maura’s eyes scanned for the words responsible for Jane’s distress. She found the single entry immediately. There was no _‘Dear Book’_ , only two simple lines in her slanted cursive. _‘April told me she can’t go to the dance with me cuz her ma wants her to go with a boy. I didn’t want to wear that stupid dress anyway.’_

“Oh, Jane,” Maura whispered.

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

“Clearly, it’s something.”

 

Jane gave a weak shrug, avoiding eye contact with Maura. “What did I think she was going to say?”

 

“You thought she would say ‘yes’, because you didn’t see anything wrong with it. Because there _isn’t_ anything wrong with it.”

 

Roughly brushing away a tear, Jane sniffed and shook her head, partly in dismay, partly in surprise. “I don’t know why this still bothers me. It was almost 30 years ago.”

 

Maura suspected Jane didn’t want to hear the scientific workings of emotions and memories. Instead, she closed the book and set it aside, turning her full attention to Jane. “Tell me about her. What was she like?”

 

“Not much to tell,” Jane replied. Knowing otherwise, Maura sat patiently, giving the detective the time she needed. Jane studied her fingernails as if they were the most interesting things in the world. Minutes ticked by until Jane finally asked, “Do you want to know my memory of her, or what she was probably really like?”

 

“Your memory. It’s all that matters.”

 

Pulling her legs up, Jane wrapped her arms tightly around her knees. There was something in the gesture that conjured up images of Jane in adolescence, and Maura wondered what she had been like at that age.

 

“I was the proverbial ugly duckling,” Jane said, not realizing that once again, she had nearly read Maura’s thoughts. “I was overweight and so, so eager to be liked.” Her voice tightened at the memories. “I needed help in eighth grade science. I know you’re shocked.” Her smile had a sliver of humour, and Maura returned it with warmth. “April was my tutor. She sat at the front during class, but after school, we’d meet up at the back where the losers were, and she’d help me with my work.”

 

Maura let the words settle for a minute. “But there was more to it.”

 

“Yeah. She had a really good heart. She cared about people, you could tell. Considering her background, she had every right to be a stuck up bitch, but she wasn’t like that. Invited me to her house one time for dinner. I never wanted to leave.” She rested her chin on her knee. "Ma insisted I invite her over, you know, to even things out. That went as well as you can imagine. Pop called her 'uppity' because she picked at her food. She was just allergic to onions." Burying her face in her arms, she said, "I don't know why I came back here. You don't need to see this."

 

Maura's response was instant. Placing her hand on Jane's back, she said, "Hey. That's not true. I want to see all of you." She stroked gentle circles that seemed to soothe Jane. "You asked her to the dance..."

 

Jane took a deep breath before picking up the prompt. "Not for a while after that. It will surprise you to know my plan for dealing with feelings was to ignore them, so I avoided her for days. Didn't meet up for tutoring. It wasn't until I failed the next test that I had to face things. 'I don't know why we're paying this girl!' I had to tell Ma the truth, or at least the partial truth." Jane stretched out her legs and leaned against the wall. "Ma called her parents and they had a laugh. ‘You know how girls are at that age.’ They thought we just had a fight over a boy or something.” Jane’s own laugh was humourless. “Anyway, we met up the next day. And it was like that disaster of a dinner never happened. She didn't treat me any differently, and she didn't pity me. I don't know; maybe she had her own things going on at home I never saw."

 

"We often never truly know what goes on behind closed doors," Maura agreed.

 

"Whatever it was, it gave me confidence, you know?" Maura nodded, and Jane blew out a hard breath. "Then that happened." She threw a glare at the diary. "Her mom was very big on appearances. Joke's on them - she ended up marrying a girl from Worcester."

 

Maura's eyes widened. "So she _was_ interested in you."

 

Shrugging, Jane said, "We were 14. Who knows how we really felt about anything? I do know I stayed awake at night for a long time, wondering what I'd done wrong to make God so mad at me."  Maura glared at the wall, and Jane linked their hands again. "It was just Catholic guilt."

 

"I know," she replied. "It doesn't make me any less angry." She sighed, forcing herself to drop the subject. "You said it was for your eighth grade dance. What happened the next year?"

 

"High school happened," Jane answered matter-of-factly. "She got pushed into the accelerated program, and I went back to barely passing science."

 

"And you never saw each other again?"

 

"We passed each other in the hallway, spoke at a few school events, but it was never the same. We sort of just went our own way. I'm not even sure how the rest of her school went except for seeing her picking up a bunch of scholarships at graduation." She shrugged. "I just know I made a promise to never let a girl break my heart again."

 

"So you let a boy do it instead." As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Maura took them back. "I'm sorry. I have no right-"

 

"You have every right," Jane corrected. "I wasn't the only one going through the Casey thing. I know that now. Besides, it was a stupid promise to make. And you’re nothing like her."

 

“No?”

 

“I mean, besides being amazingly beautiful and kind and smart,” Jane said.

 

Maura tilted her head. “How were we different?”

 

“You have way more shoes.” Maura attempted to pull her hand away, but Jane held firm. “Kidding, kidding!” They held each other’s gaze, feelings laid bare without the need for words. The moment was broken when Jane glanced towards the diary at Maura’s side. “It feels like a different time,” Jane admitted. “And yet, sometimes I wonder why I can’t let it go. Not just April, but everything. Like I’ll always be that 14-year old girl who can’t seem to figure out life.”

 

“First, no one can figure out life. That’s what makes life so wonderful and frightening at the same time,” she said. “Second, you’re not that person anymore.”

 

“No?”

 

“No.” She carefully slid her hand out of Jane’s grasp and stood, framing Jane’s legs with her feet. Without breaking eye contact, she slowly began unbuttoning her shirt.

 

Jane blinked. “What are you doing?”

 

Maura looked down at her handiwork. “It appears I’m undoing the buttons on my blouse.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Jane smirked. “But why?”

 

“Are you complaining?”

 

“Well, no…”

 

“Then stop talking and just listen.” The shirt fell open as the last button was turned, and tugging up her skirt ever-so-slightly, she lowered herself to straddle Jane’s thighs. Caressing Jane’s cheek, she said, “You are not that person anymore. You are stronger and braver than you were, and that’s saying something, because you were so brave then, Jane.” The brunette tried to turn her head, but Maura didn’t let her. “Brave then, braver now, or we wouldn’t be here, would we? How easy would it have been for you to not try again? With me?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Perhaps I need a diary of my own. “ _‘Dear Book’_ ,” she began, drawing out a smile from Jane, “ _‘I met this incredible woman at work.’_ ” Maura took Jane’s hands and placed them on her breasts. “ _‘She’s gentle and kind. She’s stubborn, yet incredibly compassionate. She’s…’_ ”

 

Maura faltered when she felt Jane’s thumbs brush across her nipples. “ _‘She’s both tender and strong, and there’s just something about her that sets me on fire.’_ ”

 

She threaded her fingers through Jane’s thick hair and their mouths met in a searing kiss. Passions ignited in an instant, and Jane’s warm hands burned a path under her skirt, calloused fingertips skimmed across thighs that trembled at the touch. With agonizing slowness, Jane dragged her fingers up Maura’s ribs and slipped the thin silk blouse off her shoulders. Drawing a teasing line from her collarbone to her belly button, it distracted her enough for Jane to unclasp the bra. The lacy garment was gently tugged until it, too, was gone, and Jane’s lips quickly replaced where her thumbs had once been. The cool air and Jane’s warm mouth caused Maura to arch back in delight, and Jane held her there with a fistful of tresses. She began to rock on the detective’s lap, seeking out a temporary respite for the growing ache between her legs, and when Jane’s free hand dug into her hip to bring her even closer, she moaned at the contact.

 

“ _‘But you know what draws me in most about her, Book?’_ ” Maura breathed.

 

Jane gently bit Maura’s ear. “What’s that?”

 

“ _‘Her confidence’_.”

 

Taking the hint, Jane let go of Maura’s hair and her knowing fingers began a lazy return trip under the skirt. With practiced ease, Jane slipped past the cotton panties and found a home. Staring into Jane’s eyes, Maura linked her hands behind Jane’s head and she began pushing down on the fingers that filled her so completely. Her knees made indentations in the new carpet, and her hamstrings hummed as they lifted her off Jane’s lap, only to lower her down again. Slowly, rhythmically they worked in tandem, broken only when Jane’s tongue flicked over an aching nipple.

 

“Your teeth.”

 

Jane had the audacity to ask, “Are you talking to me or the Book?”

 

Never once losing rhythm, Maura all but growled, “Don’t make me finish this on my own.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Using just the right amount of pressure, Jane did as she was told and scraped her teeth across the sensitive nipple until Maura moaned an encouraging, “Yes.” One hand at Jane’s collar, and the other gripping dark hair, she ground into Jane’s lap with an increased fervour, fleetingly wondering how she would cover the rug burns on her knees. “Yes,” she said again, part whisper, part strangled cry. “Yes.” In the tight space between them, Jane’s right hand joined her left and it gave Maura the extra friction she needed. “Jane.” A one-syllable word that stood for so much: pleasure, passion, completion, protector. It was the single element that would always be her catalyst for everything good. Her body went rigid at the thought, the feelings, and the wonderful sensation of the mouth and hands that claimed her.

 

Coming down from the clouds, Maura sagged into Jane and waited for her heart to return to normal. They fit so perfectly that she wondered why they had fought it for so long. Finally, with a ragged breath, she whispered into Jane’s ear, “Do you know how else we were different?” She didn’t wait for Jane to reply. “I _know_ I’m in love with you.”

 

Jane slid her hands around Maura’s waist and held on tightly. “Why?” She must have realized how it sounded, because she shook her head. “I mean, this.” She pulled back an inch to look down at Maura’s body. “Not that I don’t appreciate _all_ of this…”

 

A lazy, satisfied smile crept across her face. “I wanted you to have better memories of this house.” Suddenly, she frowned. “Unless you ‘made out’ with someone in your bedroom before me.”

 

“I love how I can hear the air quotes,” Jane said. “And no, I have not ‘made out’ with anyone else in this room. Or anywhere else in the house.”

 

“Good.”

 

They sat in silence, wrapped around each other, the day passing them by and the room losing its light. Long shadows cast into the empty spaces. There wasn’t a sound except a bird outside the window. They revelled in the warmth of their bodies and unspoken promises.

 

“My ass is numb-”

 

“My knees hurt-”

 

They spoke simultaneously and laughed. Gingerly, they stood, and Maura gathered her clothing. “You can help me put this on,” she said, handing Jane her bra.

 

“It’s never as much fun as taking it off,” Jane pouted, and received a playful glare in return. Hooking the last clasp, she curled her arms around Maura and rested her cheek against her ear. “Thank you. I know I’m not that person. Just sometimes… I forget.”

 

Maura leaned back into the embrace. “I will always be here to help you remember.”

 

“Speaking of remembering…” Jane spun Maura around. “There’s a tree house in the back. I never ‘made out’ in that, either.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

 

Maura shook her head. Slipping her shirt on, she said, “You’re incorrigible.”

 

“But irresistible.”

 

She sighed dramatically. “Yes.”

 

Jane watched as she closed the last button. “Don’t know why you bothered. They’re just going to come undone again.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Maura reached down for the diary. “At risk of turning things serious again, you never took anything from the house before everything was packed away. Did you want to take this?”

 

Jane looked at it and sighed. “I guess I could always give it to Ma. She could add it to her collection.”

 

“Okay,” she replied. She put the book in her purse then asked, “Ready to go?”

 

“Yeah.” They got to the door and Jane turned around. Taking one last look at the old ghosts, she repeated, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

 

…..

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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